


Unlikely friends

by Beyney



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Daryl Dixon, BAMF Matt Murdock, BAMF Sam Winchester, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crossover, Gen, Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, Work In Progress, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beyney/pseuds/Beyney
Summary: There's a zombie apocalypse in full swing and this time, there's nothing the Winchesters could have done to stop it.They find themselves walking this new and chaotic version of Earth hoping to make it to the next day. Along the way, they'll meet people who may or may not be able to work with them to overcome the odds and survive the hoards of the undead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta reader Miranda. Wouldn't have had the courage to post this without you.
> 
> Criticism allowed. Hit me with your comments.

Sam Winchester looked fixedly at the nearly untouched garden center in front of him. Sure, when the Apocalypse first hit, no one was overly concerned about flora and fauna in general, but the initial outbreak was years ago. At least some of the few survivors must have been smart enough to realize that access to this place could be a huge advantage.

Groaning noises pulled his attention back to his surroundings. A single Walker was stumbling in his direction, though it was still far enough away that it wouldn't be a danger for a while yet.

Sam looked around trying to spot Dean. They had parted ways as soon as they had found the stores, one of which was the garden center Sam was currently about to scavenge through.

It was so much easier and at the same time much more difficult to live in these times.

Sam sighed and sat down on a pile of bagged potting compost that was sitting next to the entrance. He wasn't about to enter the center without Dean. It would be a miracle if the place was intact. There had to be a catch. Something that would prevent scavengers from entering and taking all the stuff that Sam could see was still piled high in the cupboards. Maybe a herd of Walkers. Not visible from the outside, hidden between the aisles. 

He put his face in his hands for a moment, allowing himself a short break from the world. The world that had gone to shit in just a few short months.

The dead had risen and begun to eat the living or turning them into walking dead themselves. Humans had turned against each other in distrust and it was not long after the outbreak that anarchy became the norm. After the pure terror that was the Gang Wars and the last efforts of the military to regain control of the situation, there came nothing. Silence. The last of the survivors had learned that noise attracted Walkers and they’d all go to extreme lengths in order to remain alive. The consensus seemed to be that being on your own or with small groups was the way to go. Too large a crowd would definitely draw unwanted attention, both of the Walker and the human nature.

Sam could hear the Walker getting closer accompanied by its distinctive groaning. Soon it would be near enough that Sam would be able to touch it if he wanted to. That it would be able to touch Sam...

A sickening slashing noise got Sam to open his eyes. The Walker was lying on the ground, half of its head missing.

Dean, his bloody machete in hand, stood over the still corpse, glaring at his younger brother, "Didn't you hear that son of a bitch? Damn Sammy, he nearly got you there."

Sam didn't bother to reply to that. "Did you find anything in the sports shop?"

Dean looked like he wanted to argue over his little brother’s non-existent sense of self-preservation for a little longer, but eventually sighed and let it go.

"Yeah, but not much. There were no weapons worth anything left. Only some small knives, which I took. Will be good for throwing if nothing else. Ah, and this." He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a tarpaulin and an additional sleeping bag. "I know the sleeping bag you have is far too small for you and we can really use the tarpaulin. Don't even argue."

Sam nodded. "Didn't have much luck in the other store. Most of the food was either gone or expired. Just found a couple granola bars, a few water bottles and some lighters that I thought would come in handy."

Dean stuffed the sleeping bag back in his backpack and gestured to the garden center, “And there?"

Sam winced, "From the outside, it looks like everything is still mostly intact, but I wanted to wait for you. It seems to be too good to be true."

His brother nodded, "Yeah, let's see what's in store for us." He grinned at his own pun.

Sam merely rolled his eyes.

 

*

 

When the apocalypse had hit America, Sam and his brother had been involved in a run-of-the-mill hunt. A minor vampire problem in Colby, Kentucky.

At first, they hadn’t even been aware of the news broadcasted on TV. They mostly found their cases through newspaper articles and the ones they usually handled didn't attract more than the local officials, staying in the headlines a day or two at most. So when the papers started to talk about a virus spreading, the Winchesters just didn't think it would be their kind of case. Let alone be real, due to the almost yearly appearance of a ‘new and dangerous virus’. Like the swine flu or avian influenza. Epidemics were the new craze, it seemed.

The first sign that the virus would be a new and fucked up problem the Winchesters would have to deal with came when they tracked down the vampire they’d been hunting almost a week later. They had found it in the old cellar of an uninhabited house. The vamp had looked miserable and Sam would have pitied him if he hadn’t known for a fact that this thing had killed over three people in the previous weeks.

It had scrambled into the corner of the small room when the brothers had forced their way in.

"Please, please," It had huffed and had looked up at them with deep sunken eyes. Sweat had coated its face and its shirt had been soaked already. It was not an exaggeration to say that it had looked like it could have died at any given moment.

"What? Want us to spare your miserable life?" Sam had spat.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, man. Granted, it doesn’t look like beheading you will take much effort. You look like shit." Dean had added.

"Please", the vampire had coughed out, "Kill me."

"Come again?" That had caught Sam off guard, had he misheard?

"Just kill me."

The brothers had glanced at each other disbelievingly. Dean had shrugged and had been about to take a swing at its neck, but Sam had intervened.

He’d shaken his head at his brother and had yanked the now shivering vampire up into a sitting position by its collar.

"What happened to you?" He questioned with a cold voice, no trace of compassion in it.

"What’ll happen to all of us. They poisoned me. They are all sick. Everyone."

"Who?"

"You"

Dean had knelt next to Sam and struck the vamp in the jaw. "Clear sentences, you son of a bitch. That way, we might grant you a quick death."

Taking a few unsteady breaths, the vampire had gained a little strength and had looked them dead in the eye. "Every human’s blood is poisonous. No one knows why but it kills us. Slowly. I'm the last of my nest. We were over twenty people just two weeks ago. Now they are all dead."

Sam had grimaced as the vamp had closed its hand around Dean’s machete.

"Please just end me. It is in both our interests, no? You get to kill me, I get to die."

Dean had shot a glance at Sam, who’d nodded. It was unlikely the vamp would be able to give them more information. Dean had ended the vampire there and then. Undeniably, a whole new set of questions arose.

The Winchesters had at this point no idea, but the Colby hunt would be their last ordinary hunt as they had come to know them.

While working on finding out what in humans’ blood composition had changed, they’d contacted other hunters to spread the word and hopefully gain some new one information. Nobody seemed to have the answer, what they did know, however, was that vampires hadn’t been the only ones affected.

The number of monsters feeding off human flesh, amongst them ghouls and vampires, had decreased rapidly and they were often found dead or seriously ill. Monsters which did not rely solely on humans to survive like werewolves and some rare 'vegetarian' vampires had cut their ties to society after a few casualties and most hunters suspected that their animalistic instinct had drawn them away from humanity and towards the wild, where they were no longer endangered.

It was then that the hunter community realized they might have to figure out what was wrong with humans on their own. It was then that the world started to end. Again.

 

*

 

Sam and Dean neared the entrance to the garden center. Simple slide doors, glass. Of course, because of the power blackout of a few months ago, they didn't open themselves up when the brothers approached, but they’d expected that. They would either lever the doors open or break the glass. But first, they had to see if they could spot any dangers from the outside before bursting in. It could be a trap.

Sam smiled bitterly, as he realized how cautious they had become. They couldn’t take any chances, not anymore. Recklessness could get them killed. The very slim chance that other scavengers had overlooked the place, however, was more than worth the risk of taking a look inside.

Dean leveled his still bloody machete at the door, pausing to take a peek through the glass into the store as Sam got ready and grabbed one side of the doors. They were heavy but eventually, they gave way and opened. Thank god they didn't have to break the glass. The noise would have alarmed every Walker within a two-mile radius.

Sam heaved and pushed the doors farther apart to allow Dean and him to squeeze through. Thankfully the doors stuck open after Sam let go of them. They would offer a quick escape route if things went south. He offered Dean a brisk nod and entered the store.

He trusted his brother to have his back, so he had no qualms about taking a moment to eye the scenery. It was dusty and, due to the already low sun, only dimly lit. The shelves were fully stocked, only a few empty ones could be seen here and there, most likely because the store hadn't fully restocked before the apocalypse hit.

"Can't see anything," Sam whispered.

"We can’t take the risk. No splitting up. I’ll keep watch. See if you can find anything useful," Dean Dean breathed out.

Sam took in the first shelves. Outdoor clothing. He quickly went to the shirts, looking through the sizes and picking two that would fit him and another three for Dean. Stuffing them into his nearly empty backpack he glanced at the rest of the clothing, picking a few minor things from the well-stocked shelves. There were a bunch of white linen shirts, that would make for good bandages. He took some of them too. He didn't even bother to look for a first aid kit, it was pointless. Those were the most sought-after item after food and weapons.

The brothers browsed the shelves finding expired dog and cat food, empty cages which had once been home to both rabbits and birds. There were a ton of potted plants too, now dead, due to lack of water. 

Sam got the distinct impression that the garden center was more of an outdoor store when they got to another hall filled with all kinds of camping gear. Sam looked at Dean, pure joy in his eyes. This was really too good to be true.

Dean looked around. When he couldn't spot any immediate danger, he turned to Sam. "You stay here. Gather stuff. I'll get the pick-up. Maybe we should stay here for a while."

Sam readily agreed and pulled a big backpack from one of the shelves. He scanned the items gathered around him and got to work.

 

*

 

The first Walker the Winchesters ever encountered was the one who lived the longest out of all of them. And that was simply because neither Winchester had ever come across one before and they had yet to learn how to kill them permanently.

When they were making their way down the highway after finishing yet another weirder-than-usual hunt, they had spotted three guys walking at an eerily slow pace on the highway and the brothers had stopped to investigate. They were a few miles out of the closest city and it was likely that those guys needed help. That thought ha been quickly dismissed when the nearest of them had turned around, its chest partly ripped open and groaning, but staying on its feet. Not only had it stayed upright whilst seriously injured, but it had been making its way over to the Winchesters. Dean had immediately whipped out his gun from his waist belt and had pointed it at the thing. Sam had followed suit. 

"Hey, can you hear me?" Dean had called and watched in horror and disgust as the thing not only came closer but also managed to lose part of its guts through the gash in its lower abdomen, without noticing.

It had just groaned again in its deep, gravelly voice when Dean decided that it was definitely not a human being anymore and obviously not very friendly either. The sound of two sharp gunshots cutting through the air had told him that Sam had come to the same conclusion.

They had both aimed for the heart but that hadn't seemed to bother the thing at all, because it had just kept staggering forward. The only thing the gunshots had achieved had been to draw the attention of the other two things, which had started to stumble - and, in one case, hobble, in their direction.

"Well, that didn't work," Dean had said as he took a step back. "Any ideas? Sam?"

Sam had shrugged and raised his gun a second time. Yet another shot had been fired, this time aiming at the things head. It had dropped like a stone.

"Aim for the head", Sam had supplied unnecessarily.

Together they had ended the other two and had dragged the bodies to the side of the road.

That first encounter hadn't been their last of the day as the closer they’d gotten to the outskirts of Atlanta, the more of those things they’d come across. There had been humans too, of course, and more than once they had had to come to the rescue of small groups of people who were being attacked.

On one occasion they had been too late and that’s when the Winchesters came to know that those things ate human flesh. They didn't just eat it like the monsters they knew, taking care to stay under the radar as to not attract unwelcome attention. No, this things devoured the flesh, not caring about how the blood smeared across their faces, about how their still living victims screamed and squirmed.

They didn’t seem to care about anything at all, now that Sam thought about it. They didn’t care if they were impaled, had half their faces ripped off nor were they concerned with any of the more gruesome injuries they sometimes sustained. They did not seem to feel pain or anything else and they were unable to speak, only opening their mouths to let out guttural groans. 

Dean had decided that they’d stay out of the city when they witnessed one of the least fortunate victims come back to life, having turned into a Flesh-Eater themselves. It hadn't been hard to work out how one could become one of those things after that.

"Think about it, Sammy," Dean had said. “When they eat you, or I don't know, infect you somehow, you come back as one of them. Most people are not as prepared as we are. Think about what will happen in a city as big as Atlanta. There is nothing we can do right now. We have to get our bearings and then we can come back."

Sam had agreed.

Needless to say, coming up with a foolproof plan hadn’t been as easy as it had sounded.

They’d met six people on their way out, all crammed in an old RV. The old man called had been Dale, there had also been two blonde sisters, a douchebag of a man named Ed accompanied by both his wife Carol and their daughter Sophia. They too had been on their way out of the city, having the same inkling as the brothers regarding the many people in Atlanta, despite the rumors of there being a safe camp set up by the military in said city.

They had called the things 'Walkers' and Sam had had to admit that it had seemed fitting. 

Sam and Dean had given Dale and his group one of their shotguns, knowing that they had more than enough weapons and it would grant the little group a much bigger chance against these Walkers. Then, they had parted ways. The group heading for the mountains near Atlanta and the Winchesters towards a nearby town to see what could be done with the whole situation.

There was no easy answer. After the brothers had been unable to contact the other hunters they knew and after the internet had completely stopped working, they had prayed to Castiel.

The Angel had appeared with a soft rustle of wings and hadn't even given them a chance to speak before warning them, "Heaven is about to be closed. We don't have time"

"Say what?" Sam had frowned.

"There are millions of souls reaching Heaven at an unprecedented speed. Humanity is dying." Castiel had accentuated every word as if they were deaf. "Surely you haven’t missed how the world has descended into chaos over the last few days?"

"Whoa, easy there, Cas,” Dean had said, raising both hands in a gesture intended to slow down the angel’s speech. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about." 

"Yes, I _know_." Cas had emphasized. "But..." He had buried his face in his hands. A strangely human gesture for the angel. "The souls of the deceased are flooding the heavens and each and every last one of the angels is needed. No angel can ignore the instinct to return home when it is being overworked to such an extent. It is in danger of collapsing. Heaven wasn’t prepared for such a huge influx of souls and there aren’t any Archangels left to help shoulder the burden. It’s putting a strain on those of us who are left. The gates will be closing soon. We don’t have much time." His eyes had been full of sorrow.

"Samuel Winchester. Dean Winchester.” He had looked them in the eye in turn. “It was an honor to meet you both. Rest assured, this has nothing to do with you and you can absolutely do nothing about it. You can't stop it. But please," The angel had seized both of their arms and gripping painfully hard, had continued, "You have to survive. Humanity as you knew it is now beyond salvation, but it is not too late for mankind. You can overcome this obstacle. This could be over someday. Have faith." And with a wince on his face, he had disappeared.

Sam had stared at his brother in disbelief, not being able to fully process the new information all at once along with the knowledge that that had been the last they would ever see of their friend.

 

*

 

Sam was stacking another fully packed backpack to the slowly growing pile of things when he heard Dean returning. The heavy footsteps behind him were too regular for a Walker and not accompanied by the unmistakable groaning.

"I found some really good stuff, Dean." He turned to look at his brother, only to be welcomed by a long metal pipe that was swung against his head. "Damn," he cursed and got his hand up just in time to block the hit. He thanked whatever higher power there was, that it had not been anything sharp.

Sam twisted his arm to disarm his attacker and reached for his own machete, easily reachable on his belt. The metal pipe crashed to the ground and clattered loudly, followed by a squeak coming out of his attacker’s mouth.

The man in front of Sam was a few inches shorter than him and had long dirty blonde hair. He was dressed in scruffy clothes and seemed to be completely overwhelmed by Sam when he faced the youngest Winchester, unarmed. It looked like he didn’t have much of a plan besides ‘launch a surprise attack on the six-feet tall stranger’, because he looked very obviously unsure of himself, bringing his hands up in an amateur boxing stance. He eyed Sam’s machete warily.

Sam shook his head and lowered his weapon, but didn't put it away altogether. He thought he could come to an agreement with this guy.

"I’m not looking for trouble," Sam said, keeping an eye on the guy, in case he tried anything else.

"Yeah, I’ve heard that one before." The man narrowed his eyes. "Who is Dean? Where is he?"

"He’s my brother. He is outside, bringing the car here." Sam finally secured his machete to his belt, after realizing that the man was following its movements with his gaze. "I'm Sam. We were just passing through and found this here. We need food and supplies. We don't want to harm anyone. Especially not the few humans who are still left." He flashed a small smile.

It didn't seem to reassure the blonde man. "I'm Foggy."

Sam did a double take. "Who calls themselves 'Foggy'?" He asked, incredulous.

Foggy glared. "People who are burdened with the name 'Franklin'," he shot back. 

Sam made a face, "Fair enough. Are you alone or do I have to worry about any more metal pipes coming at my head?"

"No need to worry. As long as you don't get in our way, you should be good." 

The man’s elusive attitude didn't go by unnoticed, he had clearly avoided answering Sam’s initial question. He looked around with sharp eyes and trying to spot anyone who might have been watching to no avail. He came to the conclusion that Foggy either had no other people, or they were not there at the moment. 

Foggy pointed to the metal pipe. "Mind if I take that back?" He asked and when Sam shook his head, he grabbed the makeshift weapon and gripped it tight. "When will you be going then?"

Sam considered for a moment. "When we saw how intact and fully stocked this place was, we thought about hunkering down here for a while, actually." He said, stretching the truth a little bit. They hadn't really decided to stay here, but Dean had suggested it.

Foggy paled. "No, you can't stay here. I’m here. Me... and my group."

The man was a decent liar, but Sam lied professionally. HAD lied professionally. He could definitely tell when someone was hiding information. "There is no group, is there?" He asked, stony-faced. The man in front of him kept his cool. 

"There is. And we would like to stay separate from other people. We've had enough trouble.”

Sam raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Hey, as I said, we don't want any trouble. We don't fight other humans, unless absolutely necessary. But come on, we've been on the road since the beginning of all of this. Well, there was this cabin once but it got overrun after just two weeks and we could really use a break." 

Sam knew that Dean would not beg for shelter, even if they hadn't found anything as safe as the center in a long time. Dean was... well, he was Dean: if he couldn't get this garden center without a fight or any pleading, then they would keep on traveling. 

But Sam was so tired. His entire life had consisted on being on the road ganking monsters, and now, after the apocalypse, they had been on the road constantly and had ganked every Walker they had come across—even some ghosts— but it was so much more tiresome. Never truly resting, they didn’t have the luxury of taking breaks anymore, not like they did before when they’d take a couple days between hunts to lay low. Their lives had been reduced to being one single, endless hunt and Sam didn't like it one bit. Coming across other people had become rare and the few they still encountered every once in a while had become hostile and cagey. This guy here didn't seem to be an exception.

"Outside's hell, huh?" Foggy shifted the metal pipe uneasily.

"Well, not hell. But very close," Sam mumbled without a thought. "It exhausts you. 'Till you have no strength left. We've crossed more than a few of the bigger herds of Walkers. We even managed to take out half of one, this one time, but it took its toll on us." He winced. That particular day had been the most discouraging one since the apocalypse had started.

 

*

 

It had been almost a year after Castiel's disappearance and the closing of the gates of Heaven. Sam and Dean had settled into a routine of driving the Impala across the roads, scavenging for food for themselves and taking out every Walker they came across. It was so different from everytime the world had nearly ended before, because this time, it had actually ended. Truly and completely. And it had changed both brothers.

While Dean had fallen back into what he called ‘old habits’, ones he had apparently acquired during his time in Purgatory, Sam had become paranoid at first, always on the lookout for Walkers or hostile survivors and had been unable to fall asleep for more than a few minutes at a time. After that, he had been growing hopeless and listless. What use was it if they killed a dozen Walkers? Maybe three dozen? That was of no use if there were over 300 million Walkers in the USA alone. He didn't even want to think about the rest of the world. Their actions and sacrifices had not tangible consequences, not ones that mattered anyway. 

That had been his state of mind when they had encountered the first herd. 

Well before they saw the Walkers, they had met a group of eight people. All centered around a weird little guy named Eddie who had been their leader. They had been traveling in three small cars and had actually stopped to chat with the Winchester brothers. Not friendly-neighborhood chat of course as they had warned the brothers about the herd they had passed by.

Curious about the herd, they had made a turn and watched said herd from afar. For the first time, Sam had felt like he could do something. The herd had been traveling slowly and steadily towards the west and Dean had looked at his younger brother with a determined look in his eyes.

"We know what attracts Walkers. We have a chance to kill a bunch of those sons of bitches. We just have to figure out how to kill the lot." With a calculating look in his eyes, Dean continued, "I have an idea, Sammy."

He had opened the Impala's trunk and had pulled out the grenade launcher. "They are all together, Sam."

And for once, Sam hadn’t put up an argument.

Their plan had only partly succeeded. They had launched all three of their grenades into the herd and had killed an awful lot of them but what they couldn’t have foreseen was for the rest of the herd to change direction.

Instead of the further west, they had changed their path to the south-west. That alone hadn't been very worrisome, but the Winchesters had parked the Impala in that direction. They hadn't had time to take care of the rest of the herd, having had to hurry back their temporary little camp to get the hell out of there.

That evening they had celebrated. Had been brave enough to drink some of the alcohol they’d had stored in the back of the Impala and had sworn to not consume as much, due to obvious circumstances.

When they had broken up their camp, however, and had gotten back on the road, they had a run-in with Eddie's little group. Literally. Because on account of the darkness and a narrow turn of the highway, they had missed one of the group's cars that had stood parked diagonally in the middle of the road and Dean just had managed not to drive into it at full speed. 

They had been shaken and Sam had gotten a nasty head wound. The Impala though had been seriously damaged.

She wouldn't start again and Dean had uttered multiple profanities, knowing that they wouldn’t have the time or resources to repair her. They had had to leave her behind. To make matters worse, the car that was standing on the street was just one of all three. The others had crashed next to the road and were deserted. Just a few feet ahead had laid the corpses of all eight people belonging to Eddie’s group.

Every part of them had been eaten and Sam had had the sickening feeling that the Walkers that had gotten away had gone that way. This way, that the little group of Eddie's had assumed safe. The Walker herd had killed them all.

Sam had heard Dean going to the side of the road silently emptying his stomach.

The brothers had taken the one car that had still been running, a red Opel Corsa, and taken as much of their weapons and supplies as the could fit in the trunk and back seats.

Neither one of them had uttered a word the rest of the day. Talking about their mistake wouldn't change anything.

In the next big town, they had dumped the Corsa in favor of a dark blue pickup, whose driver had been laying dead with the keys in hand. With the new car, they seemed to change pace. Having lost Baby, the end of the world seemed that much more real.

 

*

 

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. Foggy no longer looked as antagonistic, his attitude leaning more towards compassionate.

"Man, that’s not my call to make," he said apologetically.

He’d been about to say something else, when they heard a new voice calling out, "Foggy? Are you okay?"

Sam turned to see a man in a red and black tactical suit appear. The approaching man had wild reddish-brown hair and weirdly unfocused eyes. Despite him looking rather ill and even leaning on a nearby shelf for support, he had a dark red club in his hands just as unfriendly as his companion had first looked.

Sam’s fingers crept back to his machete while Foggy hastily moved to the newcomer’s side.

"Matt, why did you drag yourself down here? I said I was going take a look at whoever was here. And I remember telling _you_ to stay back."

"As if you could hold your own against him." The man, Matt, scoffed, jerking his chin in Sam’s direction.

"In your current state neither could you, bud." Foggy stated matter of factly.

Sam had to agree. Matt looked like he was about to fall over at any given moment.

"I'm fine." Matt declared nonetheless.

That guy seemed to be as stubborn as Dean. Sam snorted and found himself on the receiving end of two glares. Well, one glare was a little bit off and Sam couldn't help but wonder how in the world a blind man had managed to survive for this long.

"Yeah," Said a third voice and Sam relaxed. Relief flooded him when he recognized his brother's voice. "I think we have a little bit of talking to do, doncha think, Sammy?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dean crossed his arms and stood his ground next to his brother. The man in the red and black armor hadn't even so much as flinched at Dean’s arrival, while his partner had been visibly surprised. 

"We don't have to talk. Just leave." Foggy said with finality while he held the other man upright. 

Sam deflated. "Please, just for a few days. We won't make any trouble and you don't even have to talk to us. We just need a place to crash for a while."

Dean tugged on Sam’s sleeve and said, "C'mon, Sam. We’ll just keep going. We can take the stuff we need and be on our way."

Sam didn't miss the slight disappointment in his voice, but he was sure the other men wouldn't notice. 

"No, Dean." He clenched his fists. "We need a break. The Outside will kill us if we keep going. We need to stop. There is no point in traveling. Not if we just found a safe place." 

Dean was having none of that, "This place is obviously not unoccupied, Sam. And I'd hate to sleep with my eyes open out of fear of being stabbed in the back." 

Foggy made an indignant sound. "We're not that kind of people."

Dean shot him a look. "Yeah, maybe. But I don't know that. And I will not risk my brother's life on the off chance that you might not be a paranoid asshole."

With a frustrated sigh, Sam rolled his eyes. "You can't always use me as an excuse. If it’s me you’re worried about, I say let's stay here. It’s as safe as it can get. And we’ll make no trouble."

The man next to Foggy made an effort to straighten up. "I don't like the idea of new people here, but I believe you when you say you are not here to cause trouble."

His partner shot him a look. Sam couldn't for the life of him figure out what it meant.

"But you have to stay in the section with the climbing gear. Our..." He was cut short by a coughing fit so violent, that his knees gave out under his weight and Foggy had to lower him gently to the ground. 

"Was he bitten?" Dean asked sharply, recognizing the symptoms immediately. 

"No, no no," Foggy shook his head and clenching his jaw, made an effort to shield Matt from the brothers’ view. "Not bitten. Just a nasty cut that is bothering him a little bit. Fever hit him really hard and I have no idea what to do. I'm a lawyer for god's sake. Not a doctor." 

Sam shot a sideways glance at Dean. "We are no doctors either, but we can probably help. We have experience in first aid." 

"Sam, they don't want us near them. They'll be fine." 

Foggy nodded, although he seemed unsure of that. Sam forced his eyes away from the still shivering man and moved to pick up the stuff he had gathered.

Amid it, a backpack stuffed to the brim with packages of dry meat and granola bars. He shouldered the backpacks and loaded his arms with the rest of the pile of gathered things before following Dean to the climbing gear aisle. There, they started to set up an improvised camp, arranging a single burner gas stove, two sleeping bags Dean had brought from their pick-up and some new garden cushions.

While Dean was busy securing the makeshift camp in a way that only one small passage could be used as an entrance, Sam fired up the stove and heated up two cans of soup in a pot and added some of the dry meat. They hadn't eaten all day and Sam was sure that Dean had slipped Sam most of the food for dinner the previous night. But that was Dean in a nutshell. Always looking out for his little brother.

When the food was warm enough Sam whistled. They had learned early on that calling for each other with raised voices would only attract Walkers, and that was the last thing anyone still living wanted.

Dean poked his head around a corner and gave his little brother a thumbs up. 

It was in the middle of the night when Foggy came to their makeshift camp looking for help. He had woken Sam up first.

"I can't wake him up." Foggy had said, he’d been struggling to breathe, having run over to the Winchesters. "C-can help him? He is too stubborn to accept help, even if he’s dying. But please..."

Sam hadn’t needed to hear anymore, he’d rapidly gathered some of their precious medicine, some clear alcohol and other supplies he might need. Leaving Dean to keep sleeping, he followed Foggy. 

Matt was in a terrible condition when they arrived.

Sam kneeled next to the unconscious man. He had learned early on in life to tell the difference between sleep and unconsciousness. Sweat coated the man’s face and he was still dressed in the seemingly custom-made armor. Sam had never seen body armor like this. 

"Where’s the wound?"

Foggy opened up the red and black jacket and revealed a nasty gash across the man's chest. It was long and nowhere near healed. It ran all the way from the man's left collarbone to his lower right ribs. Sam could see that it wasn't very deep, but the edges of the wound were angry red and emitted sour smelling liquid. The surrounding flesh was swollen, but Sam sighed in relief when he couldn't see anything resembling a Walker’s bite or scratch marks. The man should have a chance of survival. Well, if they cleaned the wound and were also able to lower the fewer.

He and his brother had bounced back from worse. Arguably that had been before the end of the world happened and with slightly better equipment, but the man had seemed to have a strong will, so Sam dared to hope. He said nothing of this to Foggy though. Better not to give him false hope.

"Help me with this," He asked in a no-nonsense tone and together they peeled Matt out of his armored jacket and laid him down on a blanket, his head resting on top of a second rolled up blanket. 

"He won't like that," Foggy murmured. "He has refused to take off the armor ever since doomsday."

Sam shrugged. "Your paranoia is unwarranted. If he wants to live, I have to take a closer look at the wound. It’s infected." He gestured to where some gauze was sticking to the inside of the front of the jacket, full of blood and another liquid Sam would rather not think about right then. 

"He said it was getting better." Foggy sounded miserable, eyes fixed on the wound. "He didn't even let me have a look." 

"Well, didn't serve him well," Sam sighed.

Opening up the bottle with clear alcohol and instructing Foggy to hold Matt down with both hands on his shoulders. Then he straddled the unconscious man's lap. There was nothing sexual in the position, but Sam had to stop the man from struggling when he cleaned the wound with the alcohol and Foggy alone wouldn’t be enough to still the man's torso.

"Well, this will hurt like a bitch. I'm sorry." He pressed one hand over the injured man’s mouth to prevent him from screaming out and poured a generous amount over the nasty wound. As expected, the man awoke with a startled gasp and tried to move away at once. Sam, surprised at the man's strength had to lean more of his weight onto the man's legs to keep him down. Foggy, kneeling by Matt’s head, started to whisper soothing nothings. It didn't work. Either Matt couldn’t hear Foggy at all or he didn't care.

"Hey," Sam shifted his hand from Matt’s mouth to his uninjured collarbone to help Foggy keep the man down, seeing as Matt hadn’t made a single sound besides a pained groan, and seemed unlikely to scream at all.

"My name is Sam. I removed your jacket and cleaned out your wound. It’s heavily infected and your friend Foggy asked me to help you." Sam knew the best thing when confronted with someone confused and in pain was to stick to spouting facts. Things the man could use as an anchor to the present. To grasp his surroundings, what had happened to him. Sam could only guess that being blind would make the whole thing that much more difficult.

Not for the first time, he wondered how the man had managed to survived for that long. Maybe Foggy was more skilled than he seemed.

Sam continued to talk to Matt while at the same time cleaning the wound, which despite looking much better, still needed to be taken care of. Foggy, on his part, kept soothing his friend by muttering calming nonsense and watching Sam like a hawk. In spite of being in need of help, he didn't seem to trust Sam just yet. Not that Sam took offense. These were hard times and Foggy didn't know Sam, so Sam couldn’t begrudge him.

He turned his full attention to the injured man once again. 

"I gather you don't have any band-aids, do you?"

Foggy shook his head and Sam pulled out two of the linen shirts he had picked out earlier that day. 

"Cut them into strips. This wide and as long as possible." He showed the man how to do it and got to work on one shirt himself. When they had enough makeshift bandages on a pile on top of the blanket, Sam had Foggy help him tilt Matt in an upright position to dress the wound by wrapping his torso with the bandages. Matt seemed to have given up on putting up a fight and the fading adrenaline had not helped to let him stay awake. 

"There are more of those shirts back in the clothing section," Sam said absently while tying a knot. "You can keep the alcohol. You should clean the wound either with that or water that’s been boiled recently at least once or twice a day. And change the bandage once a day too." He got up and wiped his slightly bloody hands on his pants. It didn't matter. They were dirty anyway. "Dean and I will stay on the other side of the center and not bother you. We won't try to take your stuff or harm you in any way. We are not that kind of people." 

He looked at Matt’s bandaged chest. "That wound... a knife?"

Foggy snorted. "Yeah. There were other people. We were with a group for a few days, then they seemed to think that the blind guy would not see it coming when they quite literally cut him out of the group. They only saw him as a burden."

Sam had to bite back the comment that surviving this world with a blind man in tow would be harder than not when he saw the obvious sorrow on Foggy’s face as the man looked down on his friend. 

"You knew each other before all this, right?" He guessed.

Foggy nodded. "We've been friends since college. Nelson and Murdock against the world." 

Sam was confused for a moment before realizing that Foggy must have used their last names. He packed his stuff back in his pockets and shuffled uneasily on his feet. 

"I... Well, I have to get back before Dean notices I’m gone. He’ll be pestering me about leaving without letting him know for a week if he wakes up before I make it back."

A smirk from Foggy told him that the other man knew the feeling all too well. 

When the younger Winchester made it back to their camp, he realized, relieved, that Dean hadn't so much as stirred in his sleep. Content to have done something good, for the first time in what felt like forever, he took his shoes and pants off and laid down to try and get some sleep.

***

Daryl Dixon had had what was, possibly, the worst day of his life.

Following the water shortage they had been dealing with the previous days, walking down the roads with no destination in mind, the day had at first taken a turn for the weird with the appearance of water bottles apparently abandoned on the asphalt with a friendly note. No one but Eugene had tried to take them.

It had then gotten better again with the rain, that solved their water problems and then worse again when the rain had decided to turn into a full-fledged storm.

And then again even worse, because Walkers had somehow stumbled upon the place where they were all hunkering down for the night. 

The small barn could only provide so much shelter from the fucking awful weather outside. Daryl was, a the moment, trying his best to keep the barn doors closed while who knows how many Walkers tried to push their way in, towards their living, hot food - also known as people.

Daryl’s gaze shot to his right when Maggie appeared, helping him push against the force the walking dead were inflicting upon the door. They didn't dare to shout to alert the others. If there were any Walkers outside who hadn't noticed them yet, all the better. 

The storm seemed to grow even louder and on his other side, Daryl was joined by Sasha. Now the rest of the group seemed to have caught on to what was happening. One after another they caught up to Daryl and the girls, holding the barn doors closed. From outside the snarling and groaning of the Walkers was nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain and the crashing thunder.

Rick pressed his hands against the wood. His eyes locked with Daryl's for a moment and they both knew that right then, they had no chance. 

Even if they could all muster up the strength necessary to hold back the Walkers, the wooden doors would not hold for as long as they needed them to. Sooner or later the Walkers would scratch holes in the rotten material and then they would all be too close to the Walkers to escape in time. They would all be bitten in the blink of an eye.

Daryl shot Carol, who was standing on his other side, a look and shook his head. Her eyes widened. She tried to push herself against the slowly crumbling door with even more force, only to jump back in horror, as one of the Walkers managed to shove its disfigured hand through a loose board. All around the hole people automatically stepped away from the wildly grasping hand and the doors were left unguarded. As realization started dawning on all their faces, the metal chains, the only thing still holding the doors closed, cracked and slowly came loose. 

"Pack your stuff. Search for another exit. We're out of here." Rick barked and suddenly no one was frozen on the spot anymore.

They started moving hastily all at one, gathering up what little they had. Carl soothed Judith, scooping the eight-month-old up in his arm slinging one bag over his shoulder. Daryl was shouldering his crossbow and the small bag with the rest of his belongings when Glenn called out. 

"Got something! Over here."

Daryl joined him and helped to push aside the wardrobe that was blocking a window on the back of the barn. The window was large enough to let everyone, even the bulkier Abraham, through. One at a time. Daryl nodded to the mostly ready group. Half of them had their weapons trained on the increasingly unstable doors and Daryl hurried to climb out of the window and secure the area. He nodded to Glenn and one by one the group exited the barn that had only granted them shelter for a fraction of the night. 

Only a good third of the group was through the window when the barn doors finally gave in. And Judith wasn't out yet. Daryl let out a stream of colorful curses and broke into a run. He rounded the barn and got to the front where an alarmingly large group of Walkers stood, continuing to push into the barn.

"Hey!" Daryl tried to shift the Walkers’ focus to his person. "Hey!" He had to shout over the sound of the storm. "Hey, shitface. Come and get me you sucker!"

He had to get them away from the rest of the group and with the woods behind his back, he had a bigger chance of outrunning the Walkers than the people left in the barn had. Daryl picked up a small rock and threw it with a clatter against the wooden walls.

It worked. One after another the Walkers shifted their attention to Daryl who was now joined by Rick. The leader of the group grabbed Daryl's arm and yanked him back, gun drawn. 

"C'mon. Don't be stupid." 

Daryl snorted undetectable in the still ongoing storm. "Distraction. 'M not suicidal." 

"Yeah, it worked. I think they're all out." Rick got back to back with Daryl as the Walkers drew closer. Of course, that was the moment when a bone shattering scream was heard. 

Rick's face lost all its color so quickly, it shouldn’t have been possible. "Who..."

They had started to run before either of them could end their question. The group was scattered. Even worse, Walkers had emerged from the surrounding woods and had hit the group that had, for the most part, let their guard down. Daryl saw Sasha and Abraham fighting alongside Glenn and protecting a shivering Eugene who was between them.

"Carl!" Rick let out a shout, no longer caring about anything but the safety of his children.

Following the former cop, Daryl fought his way through more than a few Walkers. He pulled Carol away from a mostly skinless thing and kept her close. She didn't argue, but instead made the best of their situation and lashed out with her knife left and right, covering Daryl, while running towards the woods. There was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be any more Walkers among the trees, but right there they were surrounded.

"We'll lose the others," Daryl hissed in Carol's direction as they left the barn behind.

"We can't take the risk. They know how to fight. We have to get away from here." Carol answered coldly, eyes scanning the wood. Aside from the still deafening storm around them that shook the trees and occasionally brought down twigs in various sizes, they could neither spot any of their people or Walkers. "We can't do anything for them. Last I saw them, they were holding their own just fine." 

"Don't think Rick’s boy will be able to fight while holding onto the Lil’ Asskicker." He didn't even know if Carl and Judith had made it out of the barn at all. Daryl and Carol’s places had somehow switched and now it was Carol who had to pull on Daryl’s arm to keep him going. 

"Rick was taking them away when I last saw them."

He didn't know if that was a lie, but he decided to roll with it. Even if they turned around right then, there was not much they could do. By now, the others were either dead or they had been able to save themselves to the woods. They could go back tomorrow and look for the others.

*

Carl dodged a Walker and made a beeline for the woods, his little sister pressed securely against his chest with his left arm. He drew his knife with his right hand but didn't' try to pick a fight. No matter how much he hated those things that were responsible for his mother's death, he had to protect Judith. His baby sister seemed to sense the immediate danger and buried her face in Carl’s shirt. He hadn’t had time to put on his jacket and knew that he would pay the price for that later. But for now, he had to run. Run and keep his sister safe. 

He heard the groaning coming from his left and tried to dart to the right, but it was too late. A cold rotten hand had grabbed his left shoulder and tugged so hard the fabric ripped. 

Carl whirled around, keeping his body between Judith and the Walker and at the same time freeing himself from the steel-like grip of the thing. He got his knife up in time and buried it with a sickening crack in the Walkers skull. Dark blood and brain matter ran down the handle of the knife. Carl ripped it out of the skull and wiped the blade clean on the Walkers clothing. 

"We can do this," he said quietly to his sister and hugged her closer. She looked up at him with innocent eyes that made Carl cuddle her even more. "Yes. We can do this. We'll find Dad and the others eventually."

*

The young Grimes siblings slept under the roots of a newly fallen tree that granted at least a little bit of protection.

The bag that Carl had taken was luckily Judith's. Someone else had probably taken Carl's stuff, most likely his Dad, but that didn't matter anyway. At the moment, it was important that Carl had something he could feed Judith, even if there was not much left. She had to eat the mush cold because Carl couldn't risk making a fire and inadvertently lure Walkers in their direction. She didn't seem to mind.

Carl let her sleep beside him, loosely wrapped in her blanket. Carl couldn't fall asleep and, being honest, he knew that him sleeping would only endanger Judith. He was the only one who could stand watch over her. 

Morning came and with it, the skies cleared up. Carl was relieved that he still had enough food for Judith to see her through the following two days, after that, he’d have to go and scavenge. If they couldn’t find their father first. 

Carl packed Judith's bag again and lifted his sister onto his hip. He knew -roughly- the direction they’d come from and if he were to hazard a guess, that’s where Dad would look for them first.

Judith let out a whimper and her brother's steps faltered for a moment.

"You have to be quiet," he whispered into the little girl's ear. He was not sure if she could understand him yet but he hoped so.

He guessed they were only a few hours away from the barn and he just had to hope that most of the Walkers had moved on by then. It wasn't too far-fetched. In such an open area where there were no walls to speak of, like in the big cities, distractions for Walkers where easier to come across. Maybe a passing deer that had fueled the Walkers appetite, or a loud noise in the distance. There was a reason that Walkers tended to form herds. They were attracted by loud noise and movement. So it was entirely possible that the barn was deserted by now.

Or so Carl tried to convince himself. He tried to come up with a hundred and more reasons for him to return to the place of attack. If he wasn't entirely convinced that he _had_ to go back there, he would have to admit to himself that he had endangered Judith willingly on the slim chance that his father might eventually return to the barn. But where else could Carl go? Keep moving forward with no destination in mind like they’d been doing with the group?

No. He had to go to the barn. His father would be there.

*

Daryl and Carol had found Rick the very same night of the storm. It had been close to morning and the two-times-father had been devastated. Daryl had shot Carol a disappointed look while Rick had explained that he hadn’t seen his kids since he’d caught a glimpse of them leaving the barn during the attack. 

They’d searched for a cover for the night and Carol and Daryl had had to force Rick to rest and not storm off into the woods to search for his children. 

"There is no point in that now," Carol had insisted. “You can't go running around shouting for them. It'll only draw Walkers in.”

Daryl had had to agree, despite his heart being wholly on Rick’s side. He didn't like it one bit. Leaving the kids -a boy and a toddler- to fend for themselves through the night. The chances of both of them surviving were diminishing by the second. And Daryl hated that fact. “Shoutin' and runnin' around won't help the kids. If they're alive, they're safe by now. At least 'till mornin'.”

They have now holed up quite a ways from the attack site, coming up with a watch schedule - assigning watch and rest shifts.

Rick was unable to sleep either way and agreed to take the first watch and if it were not for the seed of truth in the words of his friends he would have deserted Daryl and Carol on the spot. His friends knew how to survive. Hell, both of them had been through so much, both as part of a group and alone. His children, on the other hand, were not that experienced. They had always been protected by the group and, although Carl had grown immensely over the last two years-both physically and mentally-, he was still a child. And he had to protect Judith.

 

*

 

Carl arrived at the barn near midday. Just as he had hoped, all the Walkers were gone. But unfortunately, the barn was deserted. Except for a couple of dead Walkers and a horribly torn apart human being, he couldn’t see anyone.

Carl intentionally tried to overlook the distinctive features on the dead person’s face and turned his back on the corpse. He tried not to think about who it might have been because their group had been fairly small, he had most definitely been close to the person in question. The one good part of the horrible display was that the half-eaten corpse hadn’t moved, so it hadn’t turned at all. The Walkers, with their insatiable hunger, had to have damaged the brain too much to allow the body to transform. Carl felt relieved that he wouldn't have to kill a Walker that had once been close to him again.

The boy looked around and searched for any sign that his father had been here. Nothing. Carl sat down on a fallen tree not far away from the wide-open doors of the barn and held Judith on his lap. 

"What do I do?" he asked her, not really expecting an answer. "Judith, we have to find Dad. Or the others. Daryl. Carol." He buried his face in Judith's honey-gold locks and tried to keep his breathing under control. He would be of no help to his baby sister if he lost his cool.

"We can do this," He encouraged himself. "We’ll wait here a little while longer and then we find somewhere safe. And I'll get you some more food. And food for myself." 

He waited for the better part of the day and then some, before accepting that his father wasn't coming. Why wasn't he coming? He had always come for Carl and Judith. Always. Why not now?

Carl gave Judith some of her food and tried not to give in and take some of it for himself. He could go without food for far longer than his little sister and they had only so much of the mush and water left.

The woods were somehow far more threatening in daylight and Carl dreaded venturing into them again. The night before, they’d offered shelter from the Walkers, but during the day, they seemed to offer shelter to the Walkers instead. Besides, the memories of the Walker gripping his shoulder tight and ripping his shirt just as he set foot into the woods was still much too fresh. The mere memory made him feel sick with apprehension.

Perhaps returning to the road they’d been traveling on with the group was a better idea. Surely he wouldn’t be the only one to think of that? They could all end up meeting there by accident. But it was extremely unlikely, Carl had to admit that. There were many roads in the area and even more crossroads. What were the odds that he’d just so happen to take the same as the others?

He shouldered Judith's bag and searched the barn for things that the group might have left behind. As fast as the group had had to pack up and leave that night, it would be no surprise if someone had forgotten something.

Indeed, Carl found a thin jacket someone must have used as a pillow. He sat Judith down and pulled the jacket over his shoulders. It was way too big and could easily have belonged to Abraham. Not that that guy had ever worn something that covered his arms. 

Carl scooped Judith up and, as an afterthought, wrapped her into the jacket too. It wasn't very cold but his sister didn't have much warm clothing and this way he could share his body warmth with her. Not to mention that she would be much calmer being that close to her older brother. 

They set out on their way. And not long after the two siblings had departed, Rick stumbled onto the clearing. A large bleeding wound on his head and both of his arms covered in blood. Nobody else followed him out of the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. The next chapter next week will come a bit earlier because I am busy Wednesday. Again huge thanks to my wonderful beta Miranda who points out illogical things and saves you from my sometimes horrible grammar :)

When Rick had woken up, he hadn’t remembered falling asleep at all. Daryl was up and had put together a small breakfast for them all.

The sun, as far as Rick could see with the trees obstructing his vision, was already up and he guessed that it had to be near midday. He shot upright. 

"Why didn't you woke me up?" He snarled. Carl could be anywhere by now. Who knows if he would wait by the barn at all. They had to search for him and Judith. 

"Easy, man. We'll go right now if you don't want any breakfast."

Rick nodded and got to his feet, still a little sleep-dazed. "We'll go now."

He missed the concerned look Carol shot Daryl and the shrug she got in response.

They didn't get far before they met a small group of Walkers and, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the three friends had to fight for their lives.

In the heat of the fight, Rick forgot for a few moments why they were making their way back to the barn at all and cursed himself for the stupid idea to go back to the area where they now knew so many Walkers must wander around. But he couldn't be blamed. Most people would lose their grasp on reality if an undead corpse attacked them with a gruesome snarl and tried to eat their flesh. But Rick was getting alarmingly used to it and he killed the Walker off with a swing of his slightly rusty machete. Only then did he realize the conclusion he’d just come to: Going back to the barn was a mistake. One Carl would make to find his father for sure.

Rick swore, completely taken off guard when two Walkers decided to throw themselves at him at the same time. Rick fell onto the ground, taking the Walkers with him. He managed to push one of them back and had to suppress a gag when the flesh under his hands gave in and the Walker fell forwards until Rick’s arms were buried in the Walker's torso up to the elbows. He tried to pull back and managed to free one of his hands. He reached for his weapon, that had fallen down sometime during the attack, and used it to keep the other Walker away. He couldn’t reach its brain though. 

"Daryl!" He shouted between clenched teeth. He couldn't see where his friend was but he hoped that he was near enough to help.

The first Walker, still with Rick’s other hand through his torso snapped its teeth and Rick had to keep that arm stretched out to prevent the Walker coming close enough to bite him. Sadly that distance was not nearly enough to keep him from clawing out with its only hand. Rick didn't know why the Walker had just one hand but at the moment he was immensely grateful for it.

Whenever the first Walker moved, Rick could feel its internal organs shift under his fingers and that feeling made feel Rick grateful that he hadn't yet eaten that day. Touching a still-alive Walker’s organs had never been a thing he’d thought of doing. In another attempt to free his arm and escape the grasping fingers of the Dead, he yanked his arm back. He succeeded to a certain extent. His arm glided out til his wrist was somehow caught in the Walkers ribcage. Rick could have sworn that fate was out to get him.

But the new position gave him at least a bit of leverage. He could now reach high enough to bury the machete into the second Walker’s head, but only narrowly avoided the corpse falling on top him. With one more heap of effort, Rick tried to free his hand and rolled around until he was laying on his stomach, with his one free arm Rick pushed himself into a standing position, dragging the Walker up with him. His wrist hurt, where it was being crushed between the Walkers' ribs. Rick had to continue to hold back the Walker’s snapping teeth as well as its hand. 

And then, almost out of nowhere, Daryl was there. He didn't even try to get up his crossbow. Instead, he threw his knife in an obviously practiced move and got the Walker right in the head. Like dead weight, the Walker slumped to the ground.

Unfortunately, because it was heavier than it looked, Rick’s wrist was still stuck between the ribs and having had no time to adjust to the sudden movement, Rick’s wrist first strained under the sudden weight and then snapped with a sickening crack. 

The man tried to muffle his scream as white-hot pain flared up his arm. His hand was dragged towards the ground, still heavy with the weight of the Walker and as the pain seemed to double up, Ricks vision swam and then faded to black.

 

*

 

"Rick, can you hear me?"

Rick tried to laugh at the ridiculous question that sounded too cliché. Of course, he could hear her. He tried to blink and considered the question again. Why had she asked anyway? He was fine, he was... 

Rick shot upright. His head started to pound in an instant and Rick regretted sitting up in such a rush. He rubbed his temples in an attempt to soothe the pain and regretted that action too when his wrist protested with a stabbing pain. He decided to sit still and not move until he found out what he could and couldn't do without inflicting even more pain on himself. 

"We were worried," Carol said from her place sitting beside him. She sighed, "You were out cold for at least two hours."

Rick looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

"Huh," he said and searched for the third member of the group. Daryl was nowhere to be seen. 

"He’s looking for the last of the Walkers that managed to escape."

Rick nodded and looked down at his wrist. It was clean, bandaged and with a handcrafted splint. It ached but it wouldn't hurt as much if he let it rest and did not put any weight on it. 

"My head?" He brought his good hand up and found a nasty gash on his forehead. There was still blood there but it was dry and the wound didn't seem as serious as his wrist. Well, aside from the still distracting headache.

"You hit your head on a rock when you fell down. Not too serious, but I think you shouldn’t try to standing up just yet.”

Rick winced and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Here," Carol put a water bottle in his hand and Rick drank gratefully, not really caring that his healthy hand was still covered in half dried Walker blood. He recalled the fight against the Walkers and then... and then he felt again as if someone had shot a few volts through his body, "Carl! Judith! They’ll be by the barn. And there are Walkers there."

Carol laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll go as soon as you are ready to stand."

And they did. Daryl returned not soon after and together they made their way back to the barn. They were slow due to Rick still being unsteady on his feet. Once in a while, they’d have to slow down even more, in order to get rid of the multiple Walkers they’d come across. At some point, Rick realized that the Walkers had begun to lessen in number the closer they got to the barn. Nonetheless, there were still many and they had to stop far too often for Rick’s taste. He had unfortunately broken his stronger right wrist and had little to no experience in fighting with his left and non-dominant hand, so his friends took care to keep him close so they could watch his back with more attention than usual.

It embarrassed and frustrated Rick that he was practically useless in an offensive attack, he’d have to learn and practice fighting with his left hand. And thinking of it, he would probably continue to do so once his wrist was healed. Being ambidextrous had its advantages.

The woods around the barn were too silent for Rick’s liking and he could feel his skin crawling as if he were being watched. Looking around he couldn't spot anyone, but Daryl looked uncomfortable too.

"We'll check the woods for Walkers," Said Daryl and Carol nodded. 

"It’s unlikely that there are Walkers still on the barn’s clearing. The noises coming from the woods will have drawn them here. Look for Carl and Judith. We'll meet again at the barn doors."

And that was the moment that Rick stumbled out onto the clearing, covered in blood. Not knowing how narrowly he had missed his children.

 

*

 

Judith was not happy. Carl didn't know what he had done wrong. He had silently played with her fingers while he'd walked along the street and fed her when she’d been hungry. He had also changed her diapers. But no matter what he tried, she didn't seem content to stay with him. 

During the last few days, the group had always taken turns holding the little girl for a few hours each. Mostly Rick, Carl, and Carol had carried her, but sometimes Daryl and Maggie would volunteer too. Rick hadn't fully trusted the newcomers of the group and had outright refused when Father Gabriel had asked to carry the baby. Michonne was offered to hold Judith more than once but she had declined. She didn't really trust herself with a baby and Rick had to agree that, outside of Daryl, she had the most efficient silent weapon against the Walkers. 

Carl stopped and opened the jacket to get Judith out. After he had made sure that there were no Walkers to be seen, he sat down cross-legged and lifted Judith onto his lap.

"What’s the matter?" he cooed in a way that he knew babies loved. He smiled and tried his best to cheer his little sister up by tickling her belly and bopping her nose. Maybe she had just been bored. 

"What do you say," he asked and tickled her chin, "we go down the street and in the next town we find, we search for a place to sleep tonight? Okay?" 

She giggled and grabbed his finger. Carl smiled and adjusted his hat before perching her on his hip again and standing up. They hadn't seen any sort of house for hours but Carl was starved by now and it was likely that he found some minor things to eat somewhere where. They had just to keep going. 

After the few years it had been since the end of the world it had become increasingly difficult to feed a whole group of people but for just two, well, one and a half people, Carl was optimistic he could make it through with scavenging easily enough. At least for a while.

He didn't dare think about the future too much. He knew that you could be screwed in a world like this with a baby and not many people to protect them but he had to try. He wouldn’t let any harm come to Judith.

They didn't find a town that day. But what they did find would have to do. It was a single house, on the side of the road, old and with its door opened ajar. The house only had one floor and seemed deserted. The open door meant that at least in the main rooms there wouldn't be Walkers. They would have most likely been lured out by something or killed by someone if there had even been any in the first place. But the open door also meant that the house had most likely been scavenged before. Carl gritted his teeth and weighed his options. 

He decided that they would need a place to sleep and that it would be an added bonus if they found something to eat. Maybe he could secure the place enough to leave Judith there and go have a look around the surrounding area, see if he could find anything of use. 

He walked further towards the house and drew his knife. He wouldn't take any risks.

The door swung further open when Carl entered and, to his surprise, it didn't even squeak. He pressed Judith to his side, scanned the empty corridor and prowled further in. The first room, the living room, was chaotic but empty too, as were the next three. The kitchen, a small dining room and a bedroom with another closed door inside. Carl knocked sharply on that door. He supposed that that was a bathroom but he wouldn't open it with Judith in his arms. After all, there could be a Walker in there for all he knew. 

The corridor led to another two closed doors, but Carl decided that if there were Walkers in these rooms he would prefer to kill them without Judith on one arm. He sat his little sister down on the dusty but otherwise clean couch and smirked when the dust had them both sneezing in unison. 

Before Carl left Judith on the couch he checked every corner of the room, closed or barricaded the windows and locked the second door of the room that had to lead to one of the other rooms at the end of the corridor and the glass door that lead to the garden. Then, he gave Judith her little blanket to play with and went in search of something to eat in the kitchen.

He moved silently, so he could hear if something was happening to Judith and crossed the corridor towards the kitchen, knife still is drawn. The kitchen itself was ordinary. if not a little bit outdated. The boy didn't even bother to check the fridge and started opening up cupboards and drawers. In the first ones, he found knives, forks, and other silverware. He took one of the kitchen knives and checked if it was still sharp. It was, so Carl decided to keep it and secured it to his belt.

The rest of the kitchen was rummaged through quickly enough and Carl grimaced. He hadn't found any food and he feared that he would have to eat Judith's food to keep himself alive if their situation went on for much longer.

There was a rustling sound and Carl's entire body tensed. The noise repeated itself and this time Carl was sure that it hadn't come from somewhere inside the house, but rather from the garden. He checked on Judith one more time before he entered the bedroom and moved cautiously to the big window. Here, the rustling was even louder and if not for the repetitive pattern he could have dismissed it as a sound of nature, but Carl had lived long enough in a world that tried to kill him every single day to be able to differentiate the sounds of nature from that of a human, or something that was human-like.

The rustling grew louder and Carl hid next to the window, peeking around the window frame towards the trees that surrounded the house. A muffled grunt followed the rustling and then a curse. Carl stiffened. Not a Walker, but people. At that point, he considered the latter even worse at times. Especially after Woodbury and Terminus. Walkers, he understood. Walking and eating. People were crazy. Unpredictable at best, outright dangerous at worst.

He just watched the tree line long enough for a man to appear. He seemed to drag a large something behind him. Carl didn't recognize the man and instantly drew away from the window. He ran out of the room, through the corridor and into the living room. Judith still sat on the couch, nibbling on her blanket and looked up to her brother with innocent eyes. 

"We have to go. There is someone out there." He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the oh-so-familiar position on his hip. He let her keep her blanket and got her bag, ready to leave the house. The only thing that stopped him from actually leaving though, was the clatter of the front door being opened.

Carl cursed. He had assumed that the man would likely have a camp around here, but not that this house of all locations in the area would be inhabited. What were the odds? He had not found any trace of the man in the rooms yet... Yeah, but he hadn't exactly gotten to check the closed rooms now, had he? 

The siblings had to get out. _Right that second._

Carl moved across the room and prayed that Judith wouldn't start to babble to him or herself like she used to do sometimes when she felt she didn't get enough attention. It was a normal baby thing to do, but Carl thought it could be fatal if she chose to do so in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He removed a wooden board he had dragged in front of the glass door that led to the garden and pulled the door open slowly. Behind him, he could hear the man dragging whatever he had there over the floor of the corridor and the older sibling hurriedly slipped out of the house and tiptoed away from any point where they could be spotted.

He regretted that they had to leave the safe place behind, but it was probably better this way. Carl had his eyes fixed on the house and the windows, looking for any movement while he got back on the road that would lead them to another house soon. Hopefully. 

They hadn't come very far when Walkers found them. Carl was absolutely sure that neither he nor Judith had made any sound to draw the Walkers to their position so he figured that they were just passersby. He still would have to face them because they had spotted them already and their groaning was something Carl hadn't missed at all for the past day. There were less than five Walkers, but Carl would have to try and kill them silently and one by one. He didn't know if there were more Walkers around and he wasn't as agile with Judith on his arm. 

At the moment, Carl assessed while moving back step by step, they were a few feet away from each other so he would have a good chance to get at least two of them down before they would zero-in on him. Taking a chance, he jumped forward ignoring Judith's little gasp of surprise and sunk his knife into the first Walker’s head and got it back out again in the same movement. Scrambling back he looked for the next Walker.

The remaining three had closed up to Carl a little bit but his tactic would still work. But when he was faced with the second Walker and he buried his knife in its head, its fingers tangled themselves with Judith's blanket. The toddler had an iron grip on her cuddle blanket and the killed Walker yanked it down with itself. To prevent his little sister from falling, Carl had no other choice but to let go of the knife to grab her properly. The blanket fell to the ground but Carl had other things on his mind. Namely, the remaining two Walkers. 

Fortunately, he had grabbed the kitchen knife earlier, else he would have been screwed. He took it from his belt and got it ready, still walking backward to avoid contact with the Walkers. He wasn't about to run through. The road was going straight for a while and with Judith, he couldn't lose the Walkers fast enough. Not if he didn't go for the woods and _that_ he would try to avoid for as long as possible. No, he had a much higher chance of killing the two walkers there and surviving than making it through the night in the woods.

Before Carl could plan any sort of attack through, his problems were solved in one shot. Or rather two, because in a rather quick succession both of the Walkers heads sprouted arrows.

Carl stopped dead in his tracks, while the Walkers fell to the ground, lifelessly. Had Daryl found them? Was he with others of the group? He got closer to the killed Walkers and looked around for the marksman, but when he took a closer look at the arrows his stomach sank. 

These arrows were far too long to belong to any kind of crossbow like Daryl’s. These were more likely shot from a regular bow, although they seemed strangely shiny and not as 'used' as most frequently used arrows should look by now.

Carl straightened when he heard footsteps closing in from not too far away. 

"Who's there?" He asked and raised his knife. He knew he had to look laughable, coming to a bow fight with a knife. 

"Just me." A stranger emerged from the edge of the woods, having most likely stood there or at least very close nearby all the time since he had shot the arrows. The archer held a bow with another arrow nocked on the string already. "No need to attack, I just want to retrieve... holy shit is that a baby?!"

Carl seriously wondered how the man could have missed Judith the first time around, but he didn't comment on it. He remained wary. That was the man from the house. Now that he could get a better look at him, he could see the dirty blonde hair, something that looked like a military gear in plain black and a ... nice face. He didn't seem like someone who would survive in this world. But maybe that was just a façade. The people in Terminus had seemed nice at first too.

When Carl didn't answer the archer took a step back, pulled the arrow from his bow and put it back into the quiver on his back. 

"Look, can I get my arrows back? I _swear_ I won't hurt you." Carl hesitantly stepped back from the Walkers and let the man come closer. He wasn't oblivious. He wouldn't stand a chance against the stranger if he opted to attack them.

Whilst retrieving the arrows from the Walkers’ head the man shot a sideways glance towards the siblings. "Are you batshit crazy to wander around with a baby on your own or desperate?"

Carl grit his teeth. "The latter. Are you alone?" 

The archer arched an eyebrow. "Yes." 

Carl was relieved. At least the man hadn't lied about that. Carl knew about the house. He decided to take the risk. He had to.

"Have you food to spare? Haven't found anything today and most of yesterday. I don't want to take hers." He nodded down to Judith.

"Haven't you got a group?" The archer looked aghast. "Parents? Anyone?"

Carl bit on his lip. He didn't' exactly want to present a total stranger his life story right off the bat. But his chance was slim that he would find something to eat today and the stranger had saved his and his sister's life. He really didn't seem to be a bad person.

"We got separated not long ago. I've tried to hold us up since then." He admitted and looked for a reaction.

"It seems like you've been doing alright." The man said, way too calm for the situation. No. Way too calm for the world they lived in now.

"Yeah, nearly starving and ran over by the first little group of Walkers we encountered," Carl snapped sarcastically.

The archer, who had finished cleaning his arrows of Walker blood and had stashed them away in his quiver shook his head. "More like survive with a baby that could cry at any time and plus keep it fed. Honestly, babies before Armageddon were a catastrophe to deal with. But now, while the living dead all want a piece of you? Honestly, I would be so lost with someone under the age of twelve, let alone a toddler." 

Now it was Carl’s turn to raise his eyebrows at the man's stream of words, but he decided not to comment on it. The man had probably not spoken to anyone for God knows how long. 

"She isn't a crier. Only when something _really_ upsets her she'll be loud."

"Well, that's comforting. I could offer you a place to sleep tonight if you haven't got any by now. It'll be dark soon." Carl looked down at Judith and decided to go with the blunt truth.

"The last people to offer shelter turned out to be cannibals and tried to eat us." He didn't bother to mention that Judith had been safe at the time. Relatively speaking.

"That's some serious trust issues you must have." The man admitted. "But I can assure you. No cannibalism, a safe place and hey, I got back from a hunt not long ago. Got a deer. So yeah to your previous question. I've got some food to share." 

Carl remembered the thing the man had dragged out of the woods earlier that day. Everything the man had said to him had been true thus far and they really needed a place to crash tonight. 

After another thoughtful look at the killed Walkers, he nodded towards the man. 

"Thank you."

The man looked relieved. "Thank god. My conscience wouldn't have survived if I'd let a toddler and a teen wandering the street at this time of the day alone. Just follow me, it's not that far away."

"I know. We've been there." Carl decided to go with honesty again. "I searched the front rooms and was about to hunker down there but then I saw you coming out of the woods."

The archer looked back at him. Carl couldn't decide if that look in the man's eyes showed more surprise or concern. "Well, color me impressed that you slipped my attention. Normally I'm much more attentive to my surroundings.”

Carl shrugged, "You were busy with the deer and I think I’ve learned much during this whole shitshow."

"Language." The man frowned for a moment before smirking sadly. "Yeah, think so too."

"What's your name? Don't want to just call you ‘the archer’. Though that sounds kinda cool."

"Names Agent Bar... Eh, Just Barton now. Clint Barton." He didn't ask for Carl’s name in return and the boy appreciated the gesture but decided to give his own anyway. He decided not to think about the 'Agent' too much, though.

"Carl Grimes. That's Judith. I don't want to fight you but she is off limits in every way to you."

Clint raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine by me. Babies are scary. Especially girl babies." He shuddered jokingly and Carl shot him a slight smile. 

"Man, you must’ve had some bad experiences with strangers."

Carl nodded. "One of the cannibals I told you about was about to snap Judith’s neck. I only heard of it later."

"Is that man still breathing?" Clint's eyes had gone stone cold. 

"No."

"Good."

They fell into awkward silence till they reached the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta Miranda

Sam rolled onto his back and blinked up at the ceiling. For a moment he was confused not to see the roof of their pick-up above him before he remembered what had happened the previous day.

They had found shelter in a Garden Center. It was secure and there were only two other people. People who were unlikely to attack them.

Sam sat up and looked over his shoulder to where Dean was still sleeping. "Dean?" He hissed and was rewarded with a grumbling Dean who just rolled over onto his other side. Sam sighed and reached out to poke his brother.

This time Dean looked at him through bleary eyes. "What?"

Sam smirked. "You know, I hate to break it to you, but it's still the end of the world out there."

Dean groaned and let his head fall down on his pillow again. "And every morning I hope it was just a dream."

Sam suppressed another sigh. Of course, Dean hadn't forgotten what was out there at the moment, but because there was no other reason to wake up and live for another day than surviving, they had to start a conversation somewhere. And what better way than by confronting reality right off the bat.

Their morning routine had been the same for weeks now. Sam waking Dean up and reminding him of the end of the world and Dean claiming that he’d hoped it had all been a dream. That way they didn't sugar coat the situation but they lessened its bite a little bit.   
"Speaking of which, we need to decide whether we’re gonna stay here for a while and annoy the other guys or not if we are, we have to set up more than just the beds. We have to stock up on supplies. Especially food. There is only so much a Garden Center can provide and it's likely been eaten up by the others anyway."

"Their names are Matt and Foggy." 

Dean looked at Sam and seemed to think for a moment, "I think I don’t need to ask who's who?" 

Sam winced. "I think you’ve already guessed."

Dean nodded and sat up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning completely unashamed. "So, since I guess that Matt guy isn't going to run around here, we just have to be on the lookout for his lover then. I don't trust them." He saw Sam’s raised eyebrows and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't think they're going to attack us but y'know, apocalypse and all that. Don't trust anybody."

Sam nodded and got up. 

"I'm going to search through the back part of the Center that we haven't covered yet. You?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Imma clean our weapons and sort through the ammo we have left."

Sam got fully dressed and snatched up his bag. He emptied out the things he had collected the previous day and slung the empty thing over his shoulder. "I'll be back for lunch. It's your turn today."

He ignored Deans grumbling and moved to the single opening that Dean had left to enter or leave their camp. He hadn't paid that much attention to it during his leave the night before but now he saw that Dean had taken large wooden boards to block most of the aisles that led to their camp. On the right side was a way to slip through and on the left was a hole that was the result of the gap between a shelf and the next board and let enough room for someone on the inside to point a gun through the hole and target any Walkers or hostile humans. The entry on the right side on the other side allowed the defenders to swing knives, machetes or other weapons of the kind. Since both Sam and Dean were right-handed they would have more space to move their weapons than the person on the outside whom - only if also right-handed, would have more problems getting their weapons into the right angle to attack.

Sam moved the light board leaned against the entrance and slipped through the door before closing it again. They would have to improve this wall if it had to hold back anything at all. As strategically thought-out as it was, it would only take one strong man or more than three Walkers at once to take down the wood. 

It took him about an hour to search the nearest shelves and he wasn't surprised to find that the most valuable things had already been taken. There were hardly any weapons, aside from some smaller knives and other gardening equipment. The brothers wouldn't need them. They had guns and machetes. The clothing area had been the most fruitful the previous day and despite the Garden Center being a safe shelter, Sam started to become frustrated. He had had so much faith in this seemingly untouched place.

They’d have to make a supply run soon if they didn't want to run out of food or ammo. But something inside Sam recoiled at the mere thought of being out there again.

Sam sat heavily on a fallen box and rubbed his face. He was so tired. He wouldn't have dreamed that the end of the world would be so tiring. Exhausting due to the constant fighting for survival, yes, but Sam felt… empty. One would think that being one of the last human survivors would encourage one to live life to its fullest. Being grateful to be alive. Fighting to see another day. But not Sam.

He felt drained. And not even because of the Walkers. Hell, there had been much more dangerous things out there that had wanted to kill him. Flesh-eating and hard to kill, infecting its victim with one bite? Could also be a werewolf. And they had been far more intelligent. Dead but still living somehow? Well, a vampire was technically not really dead, but you get the point. And vamps had been much faster than Walkers.

And even in their large numbers, the Walkers were no more of a disaster than the Croats that Dean had seen in his visit to the future. Those had been much faster too. 

But the world had ended and every human being had to fight for survival. But that too was not what bothered him. The Winchesters had always been outsiders and had had to live in scrappy motel rooms and had eaten what little they could afford with what little money they’d had. Learning how to commit credit card fraud and how to scam gamblers had been a blessing. It hadn't been the most luxurious life by any stretch of the imagination. Not being fugitives on the run was definitely a plus that had come with the End of Times. Although, as far as the authorities had known, both Winchester brothers were dead anyway. 

All of that, Sam could live with. He could grit his teeth and live through yet another apocalypse no matter how long it would take this time and maybe even if it didn't ever end. But what he couldn’t stand was the silence. 

He tried to keep his hopes up, that there would be more people somewhere. But aside from hostile little groups of survivors, they hadn't come across large conglomerates of people. 

The silence that filled his ears every time they were on the streets was horrible. The silent streets, sometimes filled only with the bone-chilling groaning of the Walkers, were deserted. There was no life out there. No little children innocently playing in their parents' gardens and no other people filling the sidewalks of the bigger towns. Nothing. There was either silence or the moaning of the dead that had risen and Sam was so tired. He had tried to keep his hopes up, he really had, but what for? The human population was outnumbered, there were so many more Walkers than people, and as the days went by the chance that these survivors would kill each other over food or shelter grew. 

Sam shuddered as he thought back to the other day when he had sat beside the Garden Center and waited for Dean. He had heard the Walker approach, he couldn't deny it. He had heard the thing coming closer and had done _nothing_. Had he come so far and survived so long. Why hadn't he _done_ something? Ultimately it had been Dean who had saved his ass. Dean. Who wouldn't survive without Sam, not really. 

Sam smiled a little when he thought about the lengths that both of them had gone to save the other from apparent death. That had been almost good times. Well, of course not really since neither of them had enjoyed dying but there had been at least some chance of gaining access to Heaven, Hell, either through Castiel or even Crowley. But not only had Heaven closed its gates for everyone but the dead, even Hell had hurried to close up after the first demons had been permanently sealed into their hosts after falling victim to the virus and died with them. As far as Sam and Dean knew Crowley was still alive and kickin' but Hell was just as far out of reach as Heaven. Funny thing, Sam thought, that he would regret not being able to reach Hell. It had really come this far. 

"Sam?" Sam looked up and saw Foggy peering around near the edge of the aisle. 

"Hi, Foggy," Sam held one hand up in a greeting. "How's Matt doing?"

Foggy rolled his eyes and rounded the aisle. "Much better. He tried to get up and help with supplies."

Sam frowned. "With that wound, he shouldn't get up anytime soon. And how did he even manage to survive this long?" He winced. "No offense, but he’s blind, right? This world is hard enough for people with all of their senses."

Foggy shrugged and reached to pull a backpack from his back. "He’s managed just fine so far. I was actually looking for you. Didn't want to run into your camp again and figured you would be around somewhere searching for stuff." He held out the backpack and Sam grabbed it, opening it. It had some more packages full of dried meat and some cans of soup.

"Look at it as a thank you," Foggy said and shuffled on his feet. "For helping us even after we considered throwing you out yesterday."

Sam looked at the man and offered a small smile. "Nevermind. And thanks for the food. We don't really have much left. Was actually considering going on a supply run sometime in the next few days. You could tag along if you'd like."

Foggy shook his head and stuffed one hand into his pocket. "We're good for now. And I really can't leave Matt alone. He'll go and beat something up if I don't stay with him. He's tough."

Sam nodded and stood. "Yeah, I know someone who's just as stubborn." He shrugged his own backpack onto his shoulder. "You guys haven't left many valuable things around here. Any idea if there's someplace nearby where we could scavenge?"

The other man looked offended, then apologetic. "First of all, there are lots of things left that are 'valuable'. You just don't need them right now because you have these things already. I think most people would kill for a tent like this or the sheer amount of camping stuff that's here. And secondly, no, we're not from around here. You'll have to look on your own."

Sam pressed his lips together. He hadn't really thought about Foggy's point actually. "You're gonna leave the stuff you don't need when you travel on."

"That's not a when it's a big if. And _if_ we travel on, then yes. I don't see the point in keeping something we don't need."

"You want to stay here permanently?" Sam knew he sounded disbelieving. He couldn't bring himself to care.

Foggy frowned. "Yeah, just like you intended. Yesterday at least."

Sam shook his head. "I mean yeah, for like for a couple weeks or something Two, three weeks max. But longer? Food’s gonna run out and you can only salvage in an empty area like this for a short time. Growing your own food would take time you don't have."

Foggy crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted. "And what would you suggest? You lived outside. You know how exhausting it is and now try to imagine living like that without your car as shelter and as a means for transport. Always looking over your shoulder and never sleeping in peace out of fear that those things could get you at any moment. And it's just worse for Matt in..." Foggy trailed off of his rant and untangled his arms to ruffle his long blonde hair. "Shit man, I know that this place is far from ideal. But there is no other option."

Sam had listened to the man quietly. "Why don't you take a car for yourself?"

Foggy shook his head. "I don't know how to drive one and Matt... Well, he doesn't either." He threw his hands into the air. "I grew up in New York, I didn't need one! And nobody ever showed me how to work one. I've tried to learn on my own, but they seem to hate me. They won't drive for nothing in the world!"

Sam almost snickered at Foggy’s overdramatic display. He would have laughed if the situation had been different. If this little problem hadn’t made these two men’s lives infinitely more difficult.

"You came all the way from New York by foot?" He asked instead and with honest curiosity. Not only was Matt blind, but Foggy didn't strike him as a particularly skilled fighter either.

"You know, we had some time to wander around." Foggy shrugged. "We kept on our feet. Stayed in safe places for weeks at a time. Joined a group." He frowned. "That was just one time, though." He eyed Sam a little warily. "Why do you ask anyway?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Man, would you even believe me if I said 'just curiosity'? Not everyone has gone crazy and is off to kill everyone, y'know?" 

The tension deflated only a little bit. "Well, I know nearly nothing about you and your brother so..." Foggy tilted his head. A silent request.

"We were mechanics. Before. Traveling around the states all the time." The younger Winchester used the lie that they had often presented before. Now, that the majority of the supernatural population had either gone AWOL or died, they couldn't just tell people about being hunters anymore. Not that they had done that _that_ often either, but now they had no proof for the existence of those creatures whatsoever. Better stick with the lie. "We had another car then, a Chevy Impala. Broke Dean’s heart to lose her in a crash not long after... Y'know the chaos started." He kneaded his hands and looked over his shoulder. "Anyway, I think I'll go and see if I can find anything useful in the backyard."

"I think there is one of those Things somewhere. It’s stuck between two big pots, though." Foggy warned before he turned and left, not without throwing another calculating glance at the Winchester.

Sam made his way to the metal fences that surrounded the backyard. He found the Walker Foggy had warned him about, but he let it be. He wasn't in the mood to face the thing.

The backyard was full of bigger garden things like stacks of plastic baskets, tons of clay pots, wooden planks and metal constructs that had once meant to be decoration and possibly garden fences. He found nothing particularly useful but told himself that he’d let Dean know where they could find the material to fix up their temporary camp.

*

Carl found that Clint was not only very good with a bow but also with a knife. The only other person he had seen skinning a deer this smoothly had been Daryl. And despite his obvious skill, Clint continued to complain about how he hated handling a knife. 

"You know, I'm all about bow and arrow. Have always been. I'm fine with guns, deadly frisbees and if necessary, even bats but I hate knives. But in this damn world, you can't live without them it seems." He grunted while he tried to break the knife through the hipbone of the deer to open it up properly. He had gutted it already outside in the woods and had buried the not eatable guts deep in the ground to avoid attracting Walkers.

He had heard some Walkers outside and had decided to hunt them down before taking the deer apart and had found the siblings in the process.

Carl had been listening to Clint talking nonstop since they had returned to the house. Clint had mostly talked about what he had done during the day and had dropped little comments here and there about his past life. Nothing specific, though Carl thought about the 'Agent' mention from earlier a lot. He hadn't asked.

Judith had begun to become grumpy a little while ago and while Clint had looked at the small girl a little warily, Carl had just moved to sit down on the couch and had taken out some of the last mush for his sister. Before he could feed her, he had stilled and looked up at the archer thoughtfully

"You have a fireplace?" He had asked and Clint had raised his eyebrows. 

"Sure. Come along. While you feed her I can take the deer apart properly." 

He had led them into one of the rooms on the corridor that had been closed earlier that day. It was another bedroom but much larger than the first one and Clint had obviously lived here for more than just a few days. There was a fireplace on the ground where the wooden planks that covered the floor were broken up to reveal the cement under it. The single bed had been pushed to the far side of the room to make space for a table that, according to Clint, had stood in the living room before, a chair and Clint's belongings that were scattered across the room. 

And now, Clint had blown away some ashes and added some dry sticks to the ambers to make the fire bigger again. Carl had gotten the small metal pot out, that was not much bigger than the palm of his hand but it had proved handy for small portions. 

While Carl had heated his little sister’s food up and had fed her, Clint had moved to hang the deer he had laid down in another room up with two big metal hooks. He had hung it into the doorframe and laid a tarp under it before moving to cut it up.

"Hope you're not finicky about this kind of thing." The archer said and Carl shook his head, giving Judith her last spoonful of mush. Potato, if he was correct. He had to restrain himself from taking one or two spoons for himself. Clint had agreed to give him some of the food. Later. 

"I used to be, but not anymore. Guess I would even eat frogs now." 

Clint grimaced. "Yeah, no. I'm not that desperate at the moment. I'll get something ready soon, don't worry." He moved from the hip of the deer to its ribcage. Carl had often seen Daryl skin and cut up various animals from squirrels to deer but he had never been very interested in the exact process.

Judith demanded her brother's attention back and Carl smiled down at her. She yawned. "Are you sleepy, Judith? Let's see where you can sleep, right?" He looked up at Clint. “I want to sleep with her in the second bedroom if you don't mind, but until then is it okay if I let her sleep here? Just until I go to sleep myself?"

Clint nodded and gestured to the bed. "Yeah, sure. I have some blankets too if you want them tonight. It’s gonna be cold." Carl smiled and walked over to the bed. He tucked his baby sister in with her blanket and for good measure in another one that laid folded up next to the bed. Judith blinked up at him and babbled nonsense that grew insistent. She didn't want to sleep. Carl knew that this didn't mean that she didn't' _need_ to sleep though. He reached for her little face and softly dragged his finger from her forehead down her nose. His touch was feather light and he continued the motion until her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth formed an ‘o’ in another smaller yawn. Moments later, she was asleep. 

"What was that?" Clint asked bemused and with a quiet voice. "Some hypnosis trick?"

Carl shrugged. "I don't know why but she goes to sleep much faster if I do that. Carol once showed me."

"A friend of yours?" 

Carl decided not to answer that with more than another shrug and continued to watch Clint get the deer ready to eat. The archer ended up with a lot of food and Carl idly wondered how the man made it last for days without it going bad.

Clint continued to spur on the fire and placed a pot filled with water on it. Carl walked over to Judith while the archer continued to cook a stew with a good portion of the meat and some other things that the boy recognized as some roots and some wild potatoes and spices. 

"You worked for the government?" Carl asked abruptly and it didn't escape his attention that Clint flinched.

"Kinda. I guess it was more of an agency that was linked to the government, rather than controlled by it completely."

"Did you learn to use a bow and arrow there?" 

Clint shook his head and stirred the stew. "Had always had good aim. Was good with guns, but a hell of a lot better with a bow. Learned in a circus a _long_ time ago. But my employer thought it was a valuable skill."

Judith grabbed Carl’s finger in her sleep and her big brother smiled down at her while he thought about what Clint had said. He hadn't really given it a second thought earlier, because of the Walkers and his worries about Judith and food, but the name Clint Barton sounded vaguely familiar, especially in connection with archery. He couldn't quite pinpoint where exactly he knew it from.

"You didn't have anything to do with New York by any chance, did you?" He asked.

Clint just raised his eyebrows. "The city itself or are you referring to The Incident?" 

Carls' head snapped up. There was the connection. "The Alien Invasion. You were there, right? Wait, wait, wait." He frowned and tried to recall all the heroes the media hadn't stopped talking about even weeks after most of the damage had been repaired. There had been Iron Man, Captain America, some God, a female assassin... Carl cursed his younger self for not paying enough much attention to the less flashy and public heroes. There had been the Hulk, and... and... "Hawkeye!" He shouted triumphantly and clasped his hand over his mouth right after. He peered down at his sister but she continued to sleep peacefully.

Clint on the other hand sighed and nodded. "That's my codename, yes. Was. Whatever."

"What happened to the others?" Carl tried not to look as starstruck as he certainly felt.

"Missing. Thor was forbidden to return as far as I know. I'm almost certain that Tony and Cap are holed up somewhere safe. Nat... Black Widow, as well as the uh, Hulk, were... they didn't make it. As for SHIELD itself, well you know when the apocalypse hit the first thing to happen was anarchy. That's not the best thing to happen to an agency that is all about control." 

Carl winced. "Sorry for your loss." 

Clint smiled. "Yeah, well I think Nat would have ruled her own part of this world, y'know. A shame. She would have loved it."

They talked about little things until the stew was ready. Anecdotes about people they had lost. Clint retold the true story that had never been fully published about The Incident from his perspective and, when they ate, Carl hesitantly told about his own life before the end of the world had happened. It seemed boring to him but Clint didn't seem to care. He listened to the boy and when dinner was over he took the dishes and sent him to bed. 

"You've been through a lot and I won't enter your room. Promise." He said and Carl scooped Judith up carefully and retreated to the second bedroom.

He had just made Judith comfortable beside him when it finally dawned on him that he had an honest to God _Avenger_ next door who would keep watch. 

Carl drifted off to sleep with a smile still plastered on his face.


End file.
